


Re-invention and Second Chances

by aramisinaskirt (SilverMillennium_QueenNeptune)



Series: Musketeer March 2021 [15]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Female-Centric, Flea (The Musketeers 2014) Deserved Better, Gen, Musketeer March 2021, Post-Episode: s01eo5 The Homecoming, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-28 09:53:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30137754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverMillennium_QueenNeptune/pseuds/aramisinaskirt
Summary: Post-The Homecoming, Flea decides what to do after her entire world as she knows it collapses.
Relationships: Charon/Flea (The Musketeers 2014), Flea (The Musketeers 2014)/Porthos du Vallon, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Musketeer March 2021 [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2190600
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Re-invention and Second Chances

**Author's Note:**

  * For [privateerwrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/privateerwrites/gifts).



> Since Flea was never given a real name in the series, I gave her the name Félice. As per usual, credit for the list I'm using goes to privateerstudies on tumblr and can be found [ here ](https://privateerstudies.tumblr.com/post/643477557598142464/musketeer-march)

When the Court of Miracles was nearly destroyed, Flea did not think she would ever fit in anywhere else. She wanted to go with Porthos and be happy. There was a part of her that knew he never belonged in the Court, even if no one else saw that. She hadn’t been surprised when he chose not to return for her or Charon, but it still stung. She had wanted to believe that he loved her, that someone actually cared about her. But of course, no one did. No one had ever cared about her; she was a thief and little else.

Flea had only done what she could to survive. She had adopted the name “Flea” because she was so small. She could get in and out of a crowd of people without ever being noticed. Most of the time she was out of everyone else’s way, or hardly noticed by anyone who mattered. There were two people in the Court that she trusted to keep all of her secrets. They were the ones who knew her, who actually wanted her to stay alive. No one else gave a damn about what happened to a poor little waif who spent her time picking men’s pockets to survive.

She supposed that was why she had thrived in the Court of Miracles for so long. She had become far too accustomed to living hand to mouth and waiting for something to happen to get her out of that place. Flea had learned that no one would ever care what happened to a simple waif who had been born into unfortunate circumstances. Growing up there had taught her two things: Flea could get away with anything if she was careful. It had also shown her that it wasn’t wise to form emotional attachments to anyone. Most of her time was spent daydreaming about getting out of the Court and becoming a lady.

Unfortunately for Flea, the people around her did not want her to leave. They wanted her to stay there, to be the Queen of the Court of Miracles at Charon’s side. Everyone knew Charon wanted her. Everyone knew he would do anything she asked. Flea loved him and they were the two most venerated people in the Court; because of course it was about putting on airs. It was about appearing stronger than you were. That was part of what Charon had done best. He had done it well for years. The problem with Charon was that there was always something missing. Something bigger than him that was important to her.

Flea had never been able to find the voice to admit to him that she hadn’t belonged to the Court in years. She was tired of living hand to mouth, tired of thieving to get by. She was sick of being in Charon’s bed. Charon had gone mad, and if Flea didn’t get out, she would be destroyed with him. Destruction was never a part of her plan. She had told Charon that the two of them would survive on their own, and he had agreed. She thought he had wanted to go with her. He would want to go with her if he loved her the way he claimed he did. She had spent night after night in his bed, heard the whispers into her skin accompanied by the strength of his hands and the skill of his mouth. She should have told him no. She should have done so many things. But there was the voice in her head again; telling her she wasn’t and would never be good enough to be anything but a thieving whore. Charon’s whore; because that was all she’d ever been to him. There was no real love there. He had wanted her to die. He had wanted _everyone_ in the Court to die. . . Including himself.

That was why it had been so easy for her when Porthos returned. Easy for her to fall into bed with him, to want his touch, to crave someone who thought she had worth and could care for her. Her life mattered to him. For the first time in a long time, Flea had value. She knew it was foolish to think Porthos loved her, but she also hoped against hope that he cared enough to want to save her. She had tried so many times to leave the Court behind and lead an ordinary life, but there was always Charon telling her that this was their home, that she was his Queen, that they belonged here. But if any of that was true, why had he thrown it all away to see the Court in ruin?  
  
A part of Flea wanted to rebuild the Court. She wanted to become the Queen and to see it thrive. Or, at least that was what she had wanted before. Now, more than ever, she was determined to find a place to fit in, not because she no longer had one, but because Porthos had given her a taste of freedom and real love. She wasn’t Flea anymore. She could make herself into something new, and perhaps become herself again. She had been given the name Félice before her mother died. It had not fit her life before now, but it would be the beginning of a change for her. It was a sign that she had chosen happiness and freedom, that she was moving on, and helping to make things better for those around her. Maybe she would rebuild; complete what she felt was an obligation and then move on. Helping the others would clean her slate.

Porthos had shown her that it was worth a try. Perhaps, someday, she could make him, and everyone else who had believed in her, proud. She would show those who wanted her home destroyed that good things could come out of the Court. Not only would she show them, she would do it with the style, compassion and grace of a queen, now that she knew her value. She would never be a flea again.


End file.
